


In the Cold Cold Night

by GretchenSinister



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: M/M, Young Nicholas St. North
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:54:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22625110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretchenSinister/pseuds/GretchenSinister
Summary: Original Prompt: "So, basically, I think all those who read the books know that North was DAMNED FINE in the books, when he was younger. And then there’s this fic I saw on FF.net (URL:http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8702234/17/Water-Below-Zero) about Pitch totally having the hots for younger!North and now I’m craving.Book!Verse Pitch/North. Don’t mind how anything goes, filler can go crazy, but Pitch has to be sort-of in denial at first that’s he’s got a thing for North but then he’s like, “eh, fuck it” and goes in for the kill."Book!Verse? ONLY VAGUELY. Young North settles in for the night on a lonely scouting mission. He has company.Also, bottom!North. I forget if I’ve ever seen this before, but if not, hey-o, it’s time!
Relationships: Nicholas St. North/Pitch Black
Kudos: 7
Collections: Pitchmas Short Fics





	In the Cold Cold Night

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr on 8/14/2013.

In a sensible world, Pitch knew that this North, this bandit, should have been repulsive to him, or at best, uninteresting. The man feared nothing, and with millions of other people in the world thrilling with fear every day, there was no reason that Pitch should have ever noticed North. He should have been invisible to him. But the man, standing head and shoulders above most, moving with all the ease his well-developed muscles could give him, and sporting a neat brown beard on a cheerful face behind which lurked a surprisingly cunning mind, was anything but invisible to him.  
  
It was most vexing. Pitch didn’t know whether he wanted to ruin him or keep him exactly how he was.  
  


* * *

  
  
“Cold demands philosophy,” North said to his horse, Petrov, as he piled him with blankets for the night. “And since you are much younger than me and have not had even the training of a stolen book in that discipline, I shall take on the duties of the philosopher tonight.”  
  
Petrov looked at him with one large, brown, skeptical eye. “Do not worry my friend. You carried the blankets, so you will benefit from most of them. I will build a fire and think if it would be worth it to live in a palace, if that palace were made from ice.”  
  
North began to gather kindling, thinking to himself that this night was not really so bad, and that if he lived through it—which he was confident he would—then this little scouting mission would have been well worth it. Even if he and Petrov had found nothing else of interest, they would have gained a new experience by dealing with such cold. And experiences were always useful later, if one lived through them.  
  


* * *

  
  
The fire was starting to burn low, and North was lying in his small tent in his thick fur coat and the few blankets he had kept for himself and wondering if it would be worth it to go get more firewood or if he should just let the fire go out as he fell asleep. The decision was made for him when the icy air, previously so still, suddenly became a high wind, blowing snow into the air and obscuring his vision and extinguishing the fire. North heard Petrov snort unhappily as he ducked into his tent and closed the flap. If the weather was going to go that way, he might as well stay inside!  
  
As soon as the tent flap was closed, though, the wind stopped. Puzzled, North pushed it open to let in some faint starlight. It reflected off the dull-gold eyes of a lean, dark specter leaning over him. One of North’s knives was immediately at his throat.  
  
“I was not expecting company tonight,” he said calmly.  
  
The thing above him grinned widely. “You really aren’t afraid of anything, are you? You wouldn’t be afraid of me even if I told you I was Pitch Black.”  
  
“Sorry to say, but I have not heard of you. But you have heard of me? Ha!”  
  
“Don’t ‘ha’ me, thief.” Pitch leaned down so the tip of his nose was barely an inch away from North’s, heedless of the knife pressing against his skin. “My name is one everyone will know someday. But beyond my name…I am Fear itself.”  
  
“That would explain why you are a stranger to me. Now, Pitch, if you have heard of me you must know I resolved long ago never to have anything to do with one such as yourself, so I must insist that you go. I assume the cold will not be a problem for you.”  
  
“No. It wouldn’t. And for the same reason, neither will your knife. So I’m going to insist that I stay.”  
  
North frowned at that, and opened his mouth to object. At the same time, Pitch chuckled and leaned down through the last few inches of space and sealed North’s mouth with his own, sliding a long tongue into the other’s mouth. An unfamiliar sensation almost like an electric shock, and almost like being plunged into cold water, swept through North, while Pitch himself was surprised—pleasantly surprised—very pleasantly surprised—by being able to feel the fullness of every physical sensation, without having his senses clouded by the overwhelming intoxication of fear. And it was just as good.  
  
He let North push him away after only a few moments, curious to see his reaction.  
  
“What was that?” He demanded. “I’ve never felt anything like it before.”  
  
“Probably fear.” Pitch licked his lips. “And aren’t you curious to feel more?”  
  
“How?”  
  
“By letting me do whatever I want,” Pitch purred. “I’d kiss you again, of course. But there’s so much more I’d do as well.” He bent his head to North’s ear. “To make you feel fear in your very core.” His tongue flicked out against the outer shell.  
  
“You can’t be suggesting—”  
  
“But I am. And you know, and I know, that you’ll never be able to really feel fear without my direct help. So if you want to know what it’s like…”  
  
North glared at Pitch. This wasn’t something he’d ever done before—in any sense—but his mind kept wheeling back to his insatiable curiosity. He could experience fear, and he could experience Pitch. Surely neither could kill him. And might these not prove to be far more useful than the knowledge of the bitter cold?  
  
He sat up, forcing Pitch to back away, his head brushing against the top of the tent. “Very well,” he said. “Do as you please.”  
  
Pitch wondered how much North could see of his predatory grin in the vague starlight. Soon he would able to see nothing. He reached out one long arm and closed the tent flap, leaving them in the darkness that was his namesake. He sought out North’s lips again, gratified when he felt how pliant the man was willing himself to be. Oh, but it was good. He’d have to be careful not to lose himself in this encounter, in the delicious human warmth of North against his ersatz flesh. Perhaps he should always seek out the fearless.  
  
North allowed himself to be divested of his blanket, coat, and other clothing without too much trouble, though he did object to him and Pitch remaining in the open air of the tent, which was still quite cold despite the smallness of the space. Pitch obliged him in this and let his own shadowy clothing dissolve so that soon they were lying skin to skin beneath North’s furs.   
  
Pitch rolled on top of North, feeling the mortal tense as he felt Pitch’s growing erection pressing against his hip. “Relax,” murmured Pitch. “You knew what you were getting into. And even if you didn’t and don’t, you should relax anyway.” He began sucking on North’s neck, hoping that it was a little painful and knowing that he was going to leave a mark. Regardless of any pain, though, North seemed to like it, as Pitch could feel his cock beginning to swell. Good. He’d love it if North enjoyed this, if the fearless man was one of the few to truly understand the pleasures of fear. He’d love to know something about North he’d probably want to deny later.  
  
“You can make noise if you want,” Pitch said into North’s skin, pressing a light kiss to the love bite he just left and beginning to work his way down North’s buff, sturdy body with biting kisses and caresses punctuated by scratches that made North hiss. Oh, this body. He hummed against work-roughened skin, traced his fingers along combat-honed muscles, and North wasn’t afraid, he wasn’t afraid and Pitch could feel everything. He wanted to tear this man apart. He made him feel too human.  
  
He licked North’s cock slowly and thoroughly until it was fully hard and leaking bitter pre-come. After tonguing the slit in a way that made North gasp and twist his fingers in the furs, Pitch pushed himself back up to kiss him again, rutting his own neglected cock against North’s and relishing the idea that North could taste himself on Pitch’s tongue.   
  
“Is this–?” North asked when Pitch broke the kiss.  
  
“No.” Pitch pressed his fingers to North’s lips. “Open. Suck.”  
  
Preparation with spit-slicked fingers wasn’t ideal, but the more this encounter continued, the more Pitch could tell that North was a man who enjoyed taking it rough.  
  
Or—well—maybe. Pitch groaned as the barest hint of fear from North was added to every other sensation as he began to breach him. Apparently the attention from Fear itself was beginning to tell on him. It was too good, and he couldn’t resist sheathing himself fully in North’s tight, untouched heat after that.  
  
“You’re wondrous,” Pitch breathed. “Stay just like that. I can feel—everything.” He began to thrust shallowly, then deeper as he felt North relax. Pitch couldn’t help from laughing when he heard him moan, but he thought he eased any sting by wrapping his hand around North’s cock and beginning to jerk him in time with his thrusts.   
  
Oh, this North. He was only with him because North was fearless and he was Fear, but with him he hardly felt like Fear at all. He felt as alive and animal as the man underneath him, desiring only that which the living desired. He could swear he could feel his heart pound. Maybe he’d even appear flushed if he could see himself.   
  
When North wrapped a muscular leg around his waist to pull him closer, pull him deeper, it was too much, and he came with a cry. Something in the sound or maybe the feeling must have set North off as well, for when Pitch returned to himself he found the man’s stomach coated with his own cooling come.   
  
“So fear has made the fearless man spill.” Pitch wondered if North could hear the sharpness of his smile. He wondered if his smile was really all that sharp now. “Do you understand it now?”  
  
“It was an experience I will not forget,” said North. “And I think I understand thrill now, but not pure fear. You felt like a man to me, not Fear. Was strange. And good. But I do not think you should be going back out in the cold now.”  
  
Pitch wanted to smack him. “You arrogant fool. I am far more than mortal. I was kind in my offer just now, I will not be in the fuh—future,” he said, his last word interrupted by a yawn.  
  
North pulled him down into his large arms. “Right, right. But now we will sleep where it is somewhat warm.” He wiped them clean with his shirt and turned Pitch by touch until they were spooning, Pitch’s back to North’s chest.  
  
Fear frowned as he closed his eyes. He should rip him apart. He should vanish. He shouldn’t be so pliant for this bandit. He shouldn’t care that it’s warm here. This encounter wasn’t supposed to be about anything else.  
  
But then again, he should never have been interested in North in the first place.


End file.
